Flatmates
by fandeomoniuminthestreets
Summary: A one-shot about how Sherlock and John lived before they moved in together, and how they lived afterwards. A bit fluffy and a bit very fluffy. You can see it as Johnlock if you want. Please enjoy!


**AN: I know this is a pretty cliche story (especially at the end) but it's nice and I like it :) Gives me a happy feeling**

**I'm sorry to my readers of Retreating Shadows or It's All Fine, but my Muse (recently named Tyrone) won't allow me to have any ideas for them. I'll get something soon for them!**

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**Flatmates**

If you looked around 221B before Mrs Hudson rented it out to a Mr Sherlock Holmes, you would find it a very dark and dreary place to live. Sure, the wallpaper and hardwood flooring was nice, and the maintenance was in perfect order, but there was no sparkle, nothing to suggest that anyone would ever be happy there. The building had a permanent stench of depression and gloom. Mrs Hudson did her best, dear woman, to keep the flat clean and favourable, but no one liked it. They told her it didn't feel like a home.

Immediately after Sherlock Holmes moved in, the building had a whole new air about it. It was busy and cluttered and the miserable muggy air had vanished. The flat was thriving and swathed in light, albeit artificial. There were papers and boxes everywhere and bits and bobs of science equipment filled the kitchen cupboards, but nothing of sentiment took residence. There were no picture frames or knick knacks given as gifts. In that sense, that flat was empty. Sherlock Holmes was a busy man and he didn't have time for housework, which left the flat in constant disarray. Mrs Hudson came in to clean occasionally, but it wasn't enough. The rooms were always frigid (not that the tenant didn't mind), and the piles of belonging were never given a permanent home, constantly moving from a chair, to a shelf, to a table and so on forever. Visitors to Sherlock's flat told Mrs Hudson that while his living quarters were buzzing with vibrant activity, they didn't know how anyone could stand living there.

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The flat that John Watson would occupy in the future was very plain. It was simple, boring and ordinary. A building with four walls, a couple of sinks, a desk and a bed. There was nothing to say about it at all. The landlord had had difficulty in renting it out; it wasn't eye catching enough for anybody's taste. There was nothing striking about the flat until John Watson lived in it.

The flat was very quiet. That was certain. But it was not a hopeless silence; it was a kind of unobtrusive living that was biding its time. John Watson was waiting for something to happen. The flat was very tidy and clean, born out of habit from a man in the army. The belongings were cared for and everything had a place to be, lending a sense of calm to the flat. There were personal items scattered around here and there, but it didn't make the rooms feel any more welcoming. If anything it made it feel more artificial and fake. John moved without purpose in the flat. He didn't know what to do with himself and the flat suffered dearly for it. To John and anybody who stopped at the flat, it was a very lifeless and bland place to live.

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When John Watson moved in with Sherlock Holmes, it was like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. The phrase is tossed around a lot in trashy romance novels, but here it could not have been used more accurately. John's way of living had previously lacked strength and vitality, and Sherlock's form of existing was chaotic and impossible to uphold without damage to his surroundings. The two coming together under one roof was perfect. John (along with Mrs Hudson) cared for and maintained his and Sherlock's possessions with a calm and focussed mind. Sherlock (and his insatiable need for constant movement) single handedly provided the energy and spirit they both needed for some time. John added his own strong hearted passion not long after being in Sherlock's presence and Sherlock learnt how to look after himself and his home. John brought much needed light into the dark corners of the flat and Sherlock gave John a sense of purpose. They were in every sense of the word, Yin and Yang.

Anyone and everyone who wandered into the flat commented on the furious energy the walls contained and the animated charm that exuded from every corner of the flat.

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**AN: Please review! Thanks for reading!**


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